


Of Cares to Come

by thatgirlbb



Series: When Rivers Rage and Rocks Grow Cold [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Arithmancy, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Magical Artifacts, Marauders' Era, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6419167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgirlbb/pseuds/thatgirlbb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer after fifth year. Harry finds an old photograph of a teenage girl among his godfather's belongings and soon discovers heaps of letters. When he asks a reluctant Remus about her, Harry finds out what Sirius really meant when he said the world wasn't split into good people and death eaters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The canopy of the bed held no secrets. Its heavy brocade much as the solid wooden furniture had been made for eternity and therefore remained unfazed by insignificant events such as death. Yet it was a safe spot to look at, Harry decided, precisely because it gave nothing away about the room's former inhabitant. Unlike the room, the muggle posters had withstood the test of time, because of the permanent sticking charm a rebellious teenager had once used to drive his mother insane. Well done at that, Harry thought glumly.

Everything about the room reeked of misery and claustrophobia - and Harry knew a little something about claustrophobia - from the unmade bed to the half empty bottle of Scotch collecting dust. He had not allowed anyone to clean in here or change anything about the way his godfather had left it - the way _Sirius_ had left it, Harry reminded himself. It was no use trying to avoid the name and it was definitely no good lying here staring at the canopy.

With a sigh he got up and rubbed his aching back; lying still for a long time hurts.

He was about to move toward the door and brave the day when a movement caught his eye. His gaze turned toward the mess on the desk.

Among a bundle of documents there was an old photograph. Harry hesitated, not sure he was ready to look at old pictures of his godfather. However, something about that singular picture among a pile of old correspondence intrigued him. He stepped closer.

It was the image of a teenage girl turning reluctantly toward the camera. Harry had never seen her before. He turned it around but all it stated on the backside was the year, 1976. The picture was well-worn and had a yellow tinge, which was weird. Magical photographs were far more robust than their muggle counterparts.

Upon closer inspection Harry was fairly sure it had been taken on the Hogwarts grounds even though the girl wasn't wearing a school uniform. She looked rather unhealthy, Harry decided. Black hair framed a pale face and the muggle clothes were too big for her. What was remarkable about her though was the way her face lit up when she smiled.

Harry smirked. Well done, Padfoot.

Of course he wouldn't have known about his godfather's past girlfriends, he had never thought to ask about that aspect of Sirius' youth. There were way too many things he should have asked, when he had still had time. Harry's eyes started to burn. Don't even go there, Potter, he reminded himself. As he was about to put the picture back where he had found them, his gaze fell on the parchments underneath. They were letters. Dozens of them.

A paragraph in verse caught his eye.

_But could youth last, and love still breed,_

_had joys no date, nor age no need..._

_Whether this will ever reach you I don't know for it has been a long time since you'd last looked at me in recognition and as of now I have no hope this injustice will ever be righted. However, I will give my last breath to try._

_Farewell._

_Io_

Harry turned the letter around looking for the date and found it at the top: May 5th, 1988. But... that was after the war, Sirius must have been imprisoned for years. Transfixed he stared down at the slanted writing as his mind raced. That was just impossible. His eyes moved back to the blue eyed girl. Who are you? he thought.

Who are you and why have I never heard of you before?

 

* * *

 

A knock on the door roused Remus from his thoughts.

He had been staring at the same page of ' _Dreadful Denizens of the Deep_ ' for who knows how long, when he looked up to find Harry standing in the doorway.

"Harry," Remus put his book down and motioned to the other chair in front of the fireplace, "Do come in." He noticed the dark bags under Harry's eyes and scolded himself for not taking better care of James' son. It was painful to be back at Grimmauld Place but that was no excuse.

Harry looked around the living room as he sat down. He hadn't spent much time here ever since... _that_ summer. The room seemed strangely foreign to him now that... Don't think about that, he told himself again. "I've found something," he blurted out instead. Remus raised a brow and waited for him to elaborate.

"Do you know someone named _Io_?"

Remus froze. Merlin. That was not one conversation he was ready for.

"There were some letters, and I've found this picture... "Harry took the photograph out of his back pocket when he caught the expression on Remus' face. "What's wrong?"

Remus shook his head numbly. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. Yes, I knew her. She was in our year in Hogwarts."

"Why haven't I ever heard of her? It seems like she was err- a friend?"

The grimace on Remus' face was nothing short of pained.

"So she died?" Harry tested. The chagrin on the Remus' face deepened as a terrible suspicion turned Harry's stomach. "She was a Death Eater?"

"No, nothing like that," Remus replied quietly as he motioned for Harry to show him the picture.

"But she wasn't in the Order either, right? Or else I would have seen her before."

He handed over the photograph.

"Ionia was mainly for herself and loyal to few. In that way she was a real Slytherin."

Harry started, "I didn't know Sirius had friends in Slytherin."

Remus smiled at the look of astonishment on Harry's face as he replied. "Only the one."

His weary eyes turned to contemplate the yellowed picture of the girl he once knew. She was trying to hide behind a curtain of black hair but when she turned to the camera a reluctant smile appeared. Had Sirius taken it? Remus felt the pang of an old regret added to the grief of his recent loss.

He put the photo down, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Fiercely loyal," he muttered, as if to himself.

"What happened to her?" Harry searched the other man's face, wondering. "There was a farewell note..."

"Remus?" he prodded.

Remus reluctantly returned his gaze. "That's a really long story, Harry..." he raised a hand defensively as the young man was about to protest, "And not a nice one at that. Most people in it don't get away too well, you might not even-"

"I might not even want to hear it?" Harry replied indignantly.

"There are things you might not want to know about how we all were back then. War - it has its way of getting into your head, fills you with doubt and suspicion. It brings out the worst in everyone, Harry. "

"You don't get it, do you? I don't care if it's _pleasant_! I— ".

His sudden anger had subsided as fast as it had appeared.

"I don't even know if he took his bloody tea with sugar, much less of a mysterious Slytherin friend who'd sent him countless letters for years - I mean, was he in love with her?"

As he spoke treacherous tears started to gather in his eyes. Harry wiped at them angrily.

"I thought I'd have time to ask him about all of that, that there was time." Harry stared blankly at the fire in front of them.

Remus wanted to reach out to console him but stopped his hand in mid-air, unsure how. With a sigh he finally settled back into his chair.

It would be a long night.

"Well, for one thing, you wouldn't have seen her in any of your parents' pictures because " _Jo"_ couldn't stand your father."

Harry raised a brow at that. Hadn't his father and Sirius been inseparable?

Then he tried to imagine Ron strike up a friendship with Millicent Bulstrode. Harry shuddered.

Remus shrugged. "The feeling was mutual."

"Also she didn't join us until fifth year." Remus grinned, "I'll always remember her first day though."

Harry raised a brow. "Why?"

Remus grin widened.

"Because it was the day Sirius Black met his match."

 


	2. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a strange girl receives a second chance and chooses a name of her own.

 

Waiting around had never come easy to one Orphne Ephydria _Avery_. Merlin, she hated that name, couldn't wait to ditch it. The Auror, that McKinnon woman had told her to come up with a name she'd like while she was left to stew in her own misery and _wait_. The nameless girl groaned and turned in the tousled sheets.

How fitting that she would be giving herself a name now. She glanced over to her mother by the window. The old woman stared out into the night sky in catatonic stupor, grey hair falling over a gaunt face that bore no traces of its former beauty. A ghost in the flesh.

The girl was young still in many ways, but she wasn't daft. She knew she was an orphan now.

As unwelcome emotions were about to rise in her chest, the girl's face hardened in determination. No, she wouldn't allow it. Today she would give herself a new name, shed the skin of the child she had once been and would never, ever be weak again. Her gaze fell on the last gleaming log in the fireplace and the girl let her mind wander. Strong, unyielding, indomitable like... Iron. Ion. Io.

* * *

A knock on the door roused the girl from her sleep. Her eyes darted to the window; it was still dark outside. She had only meant to rest her eyes a bit and eventually fallen asleep in her clothes. Saggy hand me downs they were, she was glad she had not put on her mother's frilly night gown when the door opened and Agnes McKinnon entered, followed by a stranger.

The Auror's face was as blank as ever, so the girl turned her attention toward the old man. He wore outrageous purple and gold robes that would put the statute of secrecy in peril if they weren't currently in a wizarding village. His long hair and beard were white and so long, he had tucked them into an embroidered belt at his waist. Gold rimmed glasses framed his piercing blue eyes. He seemed to scrutinize her the same way she did him. When their eyes met though, he gave her a warm smile.

"This is Professor Dumbledore, he's here to see you now."

She rose warily to meet them.

"I'm sorry to disturb at such a late hour, Miss Avery."

The girl frowned. Her own voice sounded unfamiliar to her as she replied,

"Ionia _Rivers_. Io."

She raised her head in defiance, just in case.

"That's my name."

If a slight smirk was tearing at the corner of Dumbledore's mouth, it was too subtle to tell.

"Very well, Miss Rivers. Unfortunately we have some urgent business to discuss. I will try not to keep you for long."

With a complicated twirl of his wand the Professor conjured up two comfortable looking chintz chairs opposite the bed and invited her to sit back down.

Ionia took a seat at the foot end of the bed, hand crawling toward her hidden wand and resting there. If either of them noticed they didn't let it show. Io waited expectantly.

Upon closer inspection she found Professor Dumbledore was wearing the same symbols on his robes as McKinnon. They looked like runes, but none that Io had ever seen. She had needled the Auror relentlessly but never received a straight answer what those were about.

Odds were this stranger wouldn't tell her either. Io knit her brows in frustration.

"I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I take it you have heard of Hogwarts?"

Ionia nodded once, trying to focus on the matter at hand. Where was he going with that? Of course she had heard of Hogwarts. She wasn't an idiot, for Merlin's sake.

Wait a minute - Were they going to punish her after all? Take away her wand? She won't let them!

Dumbledore smiled feebly at her panicked expression.

"I've come to offer you a place at our school, Ionia."

She looked from one to the other, perplexed. Was this some sort of sick joke?

"That's impossible."

The Professor shook his head sadly.

"It is quite feasible, if the right precautions are taken and necessay arrangements are made. You will have to adhere to certain rules but it's certainly not impossible."

Io couldn't believe her ears. That sounded like-

Dumbledore frowned, „It is a shame it took these kind of circumstances to guarantee your education. Unfortunately your father had-" Ionia froze.

"Don't talk about my father!"

Oh. No. No, no, no, no!

At once Io's whole body tensed. She felt her chest convulse in pain. Her hands tightened into fist, knuckles whitening around her wand. She couldn't see - white haze was filling her head and her ears rang until she felt as though she was about to combust.

Ionia focused on breathing through her gritted teeth, trying not to panic. The noise rose, driving all rational thought from her mind. She had to cling to something - so she began counting backwards: 100, 99, 98, 97...

If only she could stop that noise.

"Breathe."

A soothing voice managed to penetrate the thunderous drone in her ears. ...96, 95, 94...

"In and out."

The noise began to die down, it was almost bearable. "...93, 92, 91..." Was she counting out loud?

Slowly the fog lifted and when the white lights stopped blinding her, she found herself looking into worried blue eyes.

Dumbledore carefully stepped back to give her space. Ionia blinked.

What had just happened? How had it stopped?

Her vision became clearer but she still felt a pounding headache. There was a movement in front of her. She tried to focus.

Then she noticed the strange symbols on Dumbledore's collar were gleaming brightly and her brows rose in astonishment as she connected the dots.

Huh. So that's what those were for.

Dumbledore's eyes followed her gaze and a triumphant smile lit up his face. He shot a glance at McKinnon who bowed her head respectfully, then returned to Io with a more solemn expression.

All of a sudden he held a beautiful crystal cup in his hand and tapped his wand against it. When Dumbledore offered it to her, Ionia accepted without a second thought and took some deep gulps of the cool liquid. It tasted like mint. Just then she realized how thirsty she'd been.

The headmaster sat back down and waited. Io drained the cup greedily. When she finally put it down, it dissappeared with a puff.

She felt exhausted. What had they been discussing? She rested her eyes for a second, trying to remember.

"Would you like to attend school?"

Her eyes opened wide. Of course.

Attend. School. That was something she had been daydreaming about ever since the first letter had arrived all those years ago. But she had known better than to ever voice those thoughts. Even now, as longing filled her heart, Io bit her lip and glanced toward the window.

Thick strands of hair had fallen into her mother's eyes. Io couldn't tell whether she was awake. It didn't really make a difference most of the time. Her eyes were stinging but Io swallowed twice and willed the tears away.

When she looked back at him, Dumbledore nodded.

"She will receive the care she needs. You may even visit her on weekends."

Her gaze lingered on his eyes, measuring his sincerity. Dumbledore appeared nothing but earnest.

"I can't afford it."

"That's already taken care of."

She couldn't even smile. It was all too unreal.

"Yes."

"Excellent. I'm sure you'll understand this will have to remain a secret though."

He measured her doubtfully, as if she didn't know the situation she was in.

"It is Agnes' duty to ensure it and it's the only way to keep you both safe."

Ionia knew that.

The Auror bore a grave expression Io had never seen before.

"What's your name?", she demanded all of a sudden.

Io blinked.

McKinnon raised a brow impatiently.

"Ionia Rivers."

"Where are you from?"

"Alb-," Io stopped herself and thought again, "Greece".

„How come you transferred?"

"I was homeschooled. My father died."

"You don't sound like a foreigner."

"I'm not. I just grew up there."

"Where's your mother?"

"Dead."

"Where's your family?"

"Don't know them."

"What, are you a mudblood?"

"How dare you!"

Io glared at the Auror.

McKinnon didn't even seem to register the livid expression on Io's face, nor the clenched fists and shaky breaths. The runes around her collar gleamed however.

Hope it burns, Io thought furiously.

The Auror turned to Dumbledore with a curt nod and got up.

"Thank you, Agnes."

"Headmaster."

When McKinnon had closed the door behind her, Dumbledore turned to Io with a faint smile.

"There is still something we need to discuss."

Io agreed. Yes, there was indeed.

* * *

Witching hour had passed and become dawn over the small village of Hogsmeade. The sun was yet to rise but light slowly seeped through, dipping the scenery in a soft hue of blue. As she stood in front of the window and looked out over the empty streets Io was reminded of the clear colour of the Ohrid lake, the peaceful early morning indigo.

Her hand softly stroked a grey strand of her mother's hair back and tucked it behind her ear. Searing heat radiated from Io's left shoulder, making even this small movement painful.

The one rune Dumbledore had cut into her skin would not suffice, that much had been clear. But Io could already sense the power the spell etched into her skin would hold. It hurt. It was uncomfortable. But it would be worth it.

Asleep her mother looked at peace.

Maybe she won't even notice when I'm gone, Io thought to herself. To her surprise that notion held no more pain, it was almost comforting.

Indomitable like iron, she had promised herself.

And so it was that on a chilly September night Ionia Rivers was born.


	3. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Io spends her first night at Hogwarts.

 

The autumn had progressed and it was already five weeks into the term, when Ionia Rivers made her slow ascend toward the castle. The light drizzle of rain wouldn’t have bothered her any other day, nor the resulting frizz of her hair.

This though was the first night at her new school - God forbid she looked presentable for the occasion. Ionia sighed. The second hand school uniform didn’t help either.

At least McKinnon’s impervious charm had made sure she wouldn’t arrive soaked through. The thought consoled her a little as she trailed behind the ever quiet Auror.

Of course, she had already been  _ to  _ Hogwarts. In fact, she had spent the entire last week taking tests in various subjects and getting appraised by her new teachers. All in all, Io had fared well. Better than anyone had expected apparently which, even though she didn’t let it on, had hurt her pride quite a bit. Ionia  _ was _ clever. If only...

She scratched her chest. After weeks of getting used to it, the ink still felt like it was made from itching powder. Of course, the symbols carved into her skin didn’t really itch, it was rather the spell work wrapping around her senses that was bothering her. It made her feel confined in her body and weirdly numb at the same time.

That numbness certainly didn’t help with her weaker subjects; the memory of her Transfiguration test still made her want to cringe in embarrassment. The bloody teacup simply wouldn’t stop squeaking, so Io had lost her nerve and smashed it by accident.

But she would deal with it, Io told herself sternly. She would deal with it and not be ungrateful. After all, the runes were the only reason she was about to enter the fifth year at Hogwarts, albeit five weeks late.

They had arrived.

Ionia looked up to the huge stone arc looming over her. It didn’t look all that welcoming. A door opened and a big belly appeared on the threshold. She recognized it at once. It belonged to Professor Slughorn, her house teacher.

“Ah there you are, Miss Rivers. Right on time.”

With a curt nod McKinnon bid her farewell and disappeared. Ionia snorted. So much for soppy goodbyes.

As Slughorn took his lead, she followed on. An utmost sense of doom enveloped her. Everything about her Hogwarts experience so far had been bizarre. Well, nothing could be worse than what they had called the Sorting _ ceremony. _

Those were certainly not the words Io would use to describe it. It had not been ceremonious in any way and rather too invasive for her liking. Put a dirty old hat on your head so it can rummage through your brain and be insolent about it – that’s what she’d call it. If that was how things were done at Hogwarts, Merlin knew what lay ahead of her.

They walked down a dark corridor and up some stairs until they arrived at the great hall.

Ionia stopped and her gloomy thoughts were blown away as she stared up at the enchanted ceiling and felt like a wide-eyed kid again. That magical sense of wonder lasted for only about 10 seconds though. Then hundreds of eyes turned toward her.

Oh well, Io thought wryly, here goes your big entrance scene. 

Dinner passed in a blur. Someone had piled food onto her plate, Io chewed but barely tasted whatever she was eating. Not that she got around to much eating, what with all the questions. The Slytherin prefect had been so gracious and manoeuvred her to a free seat surrounded by other fifth years. What was her name again? Elana? Elaine?

Some questions were to be expected. Where she was from - Greece. How come she had switched schools - she had been home schooled till her father died. McKinnon had ‘briefed’ her in such depth on the life of Ionia Rivers, she almost felt as if her real life had been a vague, dark dream and she had been Io all along. 

Some questions were weirder. Was she related to the Rosenham Rivers - never heard of them. The Peltham Rivers? Dutroux Rivers? Io just kept shaking her head. McKinnon had warned her that the Slytherins would be interested in her ancestry.

And then some questions were so odd, Io had no idea what to say. Did the girls in Greece follow Muggle fashion - she wouldn’t know; they’d lived in a remote area. Were the boys good looking - err, sure? Did they allow Muggleborns into school? Into the ministry? Io shrugged helplessly. 

“Come on, let her eat something.”

The prefect girl,  _ Elaine _ , had apparently sensed that Io was feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions. She gave Io a warm smile and passed her the roast potatoes.

“How were you sorted?”

Elaine shot an exasperated look toward the tall boy who had asked. Io had just managed to put a spoonful of hot potatoes in her mouth. She chewed hastily, burning her tongue in the process and grimaced. The tall boy didn’t wait for an answer.

“Ah well, you’re a Slytherin now. In case they didn’t tell you, congrats, that means you are part of the elite.”

The people around them grinned. 

“So why are  _ you _ here, Wilkes?” a blonde girl challenged.

The tall boy clutched his heart in mock outrage.

“Why, my lovely Abby, I never...”

The others laughed, the blonde rolled her eyes and gave Wilkes a peck on the cheek.

Finally, the conversation turned to other things and Io sighed in relief. She wasn’t particularly shy but then again she had never spent much time around peers.

For Merlin’s sake, some kid at another table had just stood up on the bench to catch a better glimpse of her. Ionia groaned and hunched her shoulders.

She reached out for a jug right in front of her. A hand caught her wrist before she could touch it. Ionia froze and looked into a pair of glowing black eyes. The boy let go of her hand instantly.

“You don’t want to drink that.”

“I don’t--”

He motioned with an irritated jerk of his head toward a group of kids at the other end of the hall. A boy with messy black hair and glasses bent over laughing hysterically, spilling his milk in the process.

The dark haired boy next to him grinned and looked mighty pleased with himself. Io had no idea what made her think that, but she was pretty sure that was a rather permanent facial expression of his. She looked back up at the boy next to her, raising a brow.

“What would happen?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, if you don’t mind opulent plumage.”

“Oh.”

She quietly returned to the food in front of her, but whatever appetite she had had, was gone.

“Don’t worry.”

She looked up again, surprised she had been that easy to read.

“They’re not going to give  _ you  _ a hard time. Just steer clear of Gryffindors, you’ll be fine.” 

She looked back over to the other table. The smug kid caught her glance and  _ winked _ . Merlin. Now that was just perfect. Io pointedly ignored him and extended a hand to the boy next to her instead.

“I’m Io.”

“Severus.”

She scanned the table in front of her. “Now what  _ hasn’t _ been tampered with?”

“Try the pomegranate juice and the treacle tart.”

She raised a brow at the odd choices.

Severus shrugged again. “I loathe both of those.”

Once Io was able to relax a bit, she found she actually enjoyed herself. The students around her were a bright, quick-witted bunch and before long Io joined in the laughter.

On their way down to the dungeons, the blonde girl, who had introduced herself as Abigail Yvette Rosier, informed her of the complex relations of the student body and the latest gossip.

Of course Io had no idea who she was talking about, all that she gathered was that the house rivalries were a big deal and the Gryffindor’s were a bunch of loud and pompous trolls, who thought they were better than anyone else.

Also, some boy from Ravenclaw had started dating a Muggle-born. Telling from the nasty sneer on Abby’s face and Elaine’s guarded expression, there seemed to be a story there. However, Io gathered enough not to ask about it.

They arrived at the end of a long corridor. Elaine stepped in front of the damp stone wall.

“Melusine.”

The stones started to move backwards, forming an arched door that slid noiselessly to the side. Io followed behind Elaine and entered a large furnished room that was flooded with soft green light.

Ionia gasped. Large windows were set into all six stones walls of the room that looked out into... the lake? She turned around. The door was there, closing this very moment behind Abby and to each side was a window, framed with heavy curtains in the house colours. 

Wait a second, Io wondered. It’s night out - how can the water be illuminated?

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Elaine smiled. 

Io nodded faintly, marvelling at the impossible architecture. A school of fish shot by one of the windows. Groups of students were sitting in comfortable looking chairs around the large fireplace. Some turned around to look at the new arrivals.

“Wait till you see our dorm.”

Elaine led them down one of the hallways that spread out in each direction. The stone walls were covered in opulent tapestries that showed idyllic underwater sceneries. Io was sure she had never been around this much luxury in her life.

“Slytherin alumni tend to be quite generous,” Abby explained. “We like to take care of our own.”

The dorm was another hexagon. Five wooden four-poster beds were grouped around the centre. They had rich green curtains, that could be drawn for privacy and what looked like satin bedding. Next to each bed was a dresser made of the same dark wood. Io noticed her shabby trunk on top of one of them.

The large windows were looking out into the lake at a spot with particularly beautiful flowers swaying in the water.

“You’ve met Ethely-”, a stout girl with curly red hair and freckles waved at her, “and this is Cadi Jones.”  Cadi shook Ionia‘s hand with a firm handshake. “Ionia.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“She’s our prime Quidditch star.” Elaine added.

The girl with the short brown hair and athletic build rolled her eyes at that. 

“Oh. Which position?”

“Seeker. Do you play?”

Io shook her head. Cadi looked a bit disappointed. Ionia had in fact never even touched a broom, but she’d rather drop dead than admit  _ that _ .

Abby nodded toward Io’s bed.

“It appeared overnight. So we guessed we’d get a new classmate even before Slughorn told our precious prefect.”

Elaine shrugged.

“They probably thought the student body would delve into wild speculations.”

Io frowned at that.

“Don’t worry. One, two weeks’ tops and the novelty will have passed.”

Io’s frown deepened.

That didn’t ease her worry one bit.

Abby chuckled at her expression and Io couldn't help but join in the laughter.

Much later when Io lay in her soft bed and peered out into the soothing green of the water, she realized she felt something she hadn’t in a long time:

She was looking forward to the next morning. 

  
  



	4. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Io realizes she wasn't as smart as she had previously believed.

A high-pitched shriek woke Io from her slumber. Disoriented at first, she looked around until she remembered where she was. She hastily opened the curtain to find out what was going on.

“That nasty blood-traitor scum! How dare he---”

Abigail was desperately trying to get out of a black top that seemed to be shrinking by the second and resisting all attempts to be taken off. Io got up quickly and grabbed her wand without a second thought.

“Diffindo!”

A neat slash along the seam appeared and freed Abby from the piece of clothing. It fell to the floor and kept shrinking until it all but disappeared.

“Th-anks,” Abby stammered, still catching her breath.

Cadi hastily entered the room with a towel around her head.

“Are you alright? I heard someone scream.”

Abby shook her head in anger.

“Black,” she spat out.

* * *

 

It didn’t take long until Io found out exactly who had earned Abby’s scorn. When they entered the Great Hall, the blonde girl headed straight for the Gryffindor table.

The smug kid turned around to her stream of insults with an innocent expression.

The entire student body paused and turned to listen.

“But, Sugarplum-- Whatever is the matter? Is it that time of the month again?”

“You---”, Abby’s face had turned a violent shade of red.

“--lovely human being? Beautiful young stallion?”

She flicked out her wand and held it to his throat. The boy’s smug smile shrunk a size or two.

“I will hex you into next week you bloody, disgusting--”

The two boys beside him were about to jump up and defend him, when the stern voice of Professor McGonagall interrupted.

“That is quite enough, Miss Rosier.”

Abby seemed to consider hexing the boy anyway, but instead turned around and moved away, still fuming. The boy got up and stretched out his hand in mock longing.

“Don’t leave, Buttercup! We can fix this!”

“Detention, Mr. Black.”

“What?!” he and the other two boys yelled in unison.

“But Professor, he didn’t do anything! Rosier, she--”, the dark haired boy with glasses tried to reason.

“Clearly had a reason, Mr. Potter.”

“But that’s no fair!” the chubby blonde one exclaimed.

“One more word from either of you and you will both be joining Mr. Black.”

The chubby boy opened his mouth in outrage and closed it again with a petulant expression. The boy named Black patted his arm in a placating manner as Professor McGonagall moved away with an exasperated sigh.

Almost immediately the great hall returned to its cheery chatter. Io looked around for Abby, but she must have left without breakfast.

Cadi sank down next to her and grabbed some toast and butter. Io was surprised by the nonchalance of the student body after what had just happened. She wondered whether that meant this type of thing was a regular occurrence.

“So…does that happen a lot?”

Cadi nodded with a distinct air of annoyance as she motioned to Black and Potter.

“Yeah. Those two love their stupid little pranks. You’d think they’d grow out of it at some point.” Cadi shook her head. “Pettigrew usually tags along, the little git.” She looked over to the other table and frowned. “Huh, usually Lupin’s with them. Must be sick again. He’s alright, but you know, guilty by association and all that.”

Io glanced over to the other table. The trio looked rather subdued, but then again they held what looked like a heated whispered conversation. Io frowned in spite of herself, then forced herself to turn away.

She took the exact same food Cadi had. Just in case.

* * *

 

Io had always thought of herself as fairly clever. The first lesson in the morning proved her wrong.

Some of the things Professor Flitwick discussed sounded vaguely familiar, however when she looked around nobody else looked as lost as she felt. In fact, the classroom buzzed with excitement as the other pupils teamed up to practise the Transcendence spell.

She had been teamed up with Ophelia, a quiet Ravenclaw girl, who appeared nice enough. Io threw a stealthy glance toward the blackboard. Focus on blankness, then... swirl the wand in an entrancing manner? Spi-ra-sci-o. Spir-a-scio. Spira-scio!

Ophelia smiled at her vaguely. “I’ll start.”

Io nodded and tried to relax. She looked at Ophelia, who began to move her wand in a spiralling motion.

“Spirascio!”

At first nothing happened. Io frowned at the wand tip that was definitely too close to her face for her liking. It’s alright, Io tried to calm herself. She felt the runes burning up under her skin, growing more irritating by the second. Io leaned away out of instinct.

Then her mind went blank.

A few moments later Io looked up in confusion. Somehow she had landed on the floor. Ophelia’s pale face appeared over her.

“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

Io got up quickly, hoping no one had noticed. Her head was spinning.

“What happened?”

Ophelia smiled apologetically. “You kept leaning backwards until you fell.”

“Oh.” Io felt the heat creeping onto her face.

When she noticed Professor Flitwick moving towards them, she quickly grabbed her wand in the hopes of escaping the embarrassment of the situation.

“My turn.”

Whatever Io was focusing on, however, it wasn’t blankness. She stammered “Spira-scio!” and a blazing white light flashed. Ophelia covered her eyes, crying out in pain. The students around them turned away quickly, a few dove under their desks to escape the blinding light.

“Finite incantatem.” Professor Flitwick flicked his wand and the spell was broken instantly.

Ionia wished she knew how to disparate or make the ground swallow her on the spot. She wouldn’t even mind if she could just drop dead this instant. Anything but this.

She heard someone snicker.

“Keep practicing. It’s all in the spiral movement,” a light-hearted voice chimed next to her.

When she raised her head, Flitwick had already moved on to another pair.

Ophelia rubbed her stinging red eyes and blinked a couple of times. When she turned to a mortified Ionia, she gave her a friendly smile anyway.

“Let’s just practice the wand movement first, shall we?”

Io nodded gratefully.

* * *

 

When Flitwick dismissed them, Ionia was positive the headmaster would soon realize his mistake and kick her out. Not only had she made an utter fool of herself in front of the entire class, but Ophelia had gone over to talking to her as if she was a toddler.

On their way to the next class Elaine showered Io with words of encouragement, that she would soon catch up, that it was all a matter of practice, that she would just have to wait and see. Io sighed dramatically but didn’t argue.

Ancient Runes was a disaster.

The students at Hogwarts were expected to be fluent in Elder Futhark runes for their translations, while Io had only ever studied the Standard Issue of Proto-Germanic runes at home. She struggled to keep up with the class and had to look up several runes under the table. Professor Babbling caught her twice.

Elaine still found it in her to look at the bright side, at least Io would be ahead when they’d use other sets of runes.

Care of Magical Creatures was worse.

Everyone else seemed to be doing fine with their Porlocks. But whenever Io approached the shaggy little beast in front of her, it took flight. Once she came too close to the horses and the Porlocks bared their pointy little teeth with a fierce growl. When Professor Kettleburn finally took pity on her, she was sent to clean out the Porlock manure.

Elaine shut up when she saw Io’s crestfallen face and used a cleaning charm on her instead that made Io smell like a very clean lemon.

When Io arrived at her first class of Arithmancy she expected the worst. But at least Elaine wouldn’t be there to encourage her some more and she could allow herself to wallow in self-pity.  

Professor Wenlock expected them to combine their theoretical knowledge of Celtic numerology with the Anglian translations of Hieroglyphs to make sense of Ancient Egyptian spell work.

While she had been fairly confident in her knowledge of Celtic numerology, she had no idea what she was even supposed to do here. Io felt like crying. There didn’t appear to be any numerological system to the words or the glyphs. Again, no one else seemed to have trouble with the task. When the time had passed to turn in their work, Io had a pounding headache.

But it was Transfiguration that finally made her snap.

On the up side, it was the last class for the day. On the down side, she was late. Ionia had no clue how anyone ever got anywhere on time in this castle. She had taken the wrong turn and suddenly found herself two levels higher than she had wanted to go.

So when Io arrived, class was about to start. She hurried inside and darted toward the closest open seat.

“Is that seat taken?” she stammered out of breath. When the boy turned and looked at her in surprise, she realized her mistake.

“Erm-- sure?”

Clearly she had chosen the crimson section of the room. Although she’d only been a Slytherin for a day, she knew she wasn’t supposed to fraternize with the enemy.

At that moment Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and Io had no choice but to sit down. Some of her Slytherin classmates turned to look at her in disbelief. Abby shook her head theatrically. Cadi face palmed.

“Well, hello there.” an amused voice whispered close by. The black haired boy one seat down from her had leaned back in his chair to grin at her.

It was the smug kid. Ugh.

Turning tail and running out of the classroom suddenly seemed tempting. Instead, Io willed herself to focus on Professor McGonagall who had just made a goblet appear and filled it with water.

“Having a good time so far?”, he teased.

That’s right. They’d had Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors. An angry blush heated her cheeks.

“Must be lousy at Slytherin, if she’s already seeking refuge with us,” another voice mused. Io would bet a galleon that it belonged to Potter.

“Or she’s just lousy at being a Slytherin and they don’t want her.”

Io locked her jaw. Professor McGonagall was talking about conjuration in concept, they would start with--

“I hear Porlock manure is really beneficial, though.”

Io turned toward Black with a murderous glare, only to find that his face was inches away from hers. She clenched her fist, ready to damn it all to hell. The runes on her chest were burning painfully, spurring her on.

He chuckled at her angry hiss.

“Merlin, Sirius, cut it out.”

A pale hand grabbed Sirius’ arm and pulled him back.

“Killjoy.”

The other boy shook his head in annoyance.

“Oh, Moony Schmoony, don’t be mad...”

“Mr. Black, do you want to spend the rest of the year in detention?”

Sirius looked up and found Professor McGonagall standing right in front of them.

“Anything to be close to you, Professor,” he responded with a radiant smile.

“Front row. Now.”

Sirius grabbed his belongings and relocated with a tragic sigh right next to a very annoyed Severus.

The Professor handed out brass cups to all of them and filled them with water. They were supposed to vanish the water, but not the cup. Io read through her notes, but she couldn’t make sense of what she had written down. She sighed in defeat.

The boy sitting next to her seemed to notice her distress. He bit his lip and hesitated for a moment, then he pushed a scroll over to her side of the table. It showed the methodology of conjuration, something they had apparently studied the week before.

Io peered down at the neat handwriting. That... made sense. She glanced over to her saviour, but he had already directed his attention to the cup again.

She went back to his notes, then read through her own. So the vanishing charm was less than the opposite of a conjuration, as nothing was less than the opposite of everything? Io pondered this. However, if it followed the same logic in essence...

She turned to her cup and visualized the different textures of copper and water and separated them in her mind.

“Evanesco!”

The water in her cup quivered. Io smiled in astonishment. She hadn’t expected anything to happen at her first try.

When she looked up she caught the boy next to her smiling faintly in return. He looked nice when he smiled. Only now did Io see the grey streaks in his hair and the tired lines on his face. Was he ill?

“So, what now, Professor?”

Io turned despite herself to see Sirius looking even more pleased with himself than usual, swinging back and forth with his chair. Professor McGonagall inspected his cup and refilled it wordlessly with a flick of her wand.

“How about I help the new girl instead? I think she really needs it!” he fake-whispered in mock concern.

Io gaped at him in terror. How dare that little--

The Professor however simply ignored him and went on to see how the other students fared. Sirius turned around and caught Io’s outraged stare. And then he winked.

The water in Io’s cup began to foam dangerously. That. was. it.

Then three things happened at once: The hind legs of Sirius’ chair vanished, her cup melted and Io blacked out.

When she came to a few seconds later, the first thing she heard was roaring laughter.

Sirius’ chair had tipped over and - supposedly while falling - he had taken down the water filled cups of the row behind him. Hence a very wet Sirius glanced around incredulously and held his head where he had banged it.

Those that were laughing already - namely the Slytherins - howled at the dumbfounded expression on his face, while the rest couldn’t help but at least snicker at this misfortune. The loudest howls however came from his friend, that Potter, who’d gotten up for standing ovations.

Only the boy next to Io wasn’t looking at Sirius at all. He was staring at Io.

Uh-oh.

She suddenly realized her skin was radiating heat and leaned away from him, searing pain shooting through her skin as she moved. But the damage was done; she could see it in his eyes.

Io gave him a pleading look. His eyes widened.

She looked away and saw Professor McGonagall inspecting the two legged chair with what looked like an impressed smirk. McGonagall swung her wand easily and the chair grew another pair of legs.

“Now, calm down.” McGonagall reproved the class.

The laughter died down almost instantly, although Abby was still hiccupping and had to press her hands against her mouth.

“The next one to disturb this class, will leave and not come back. Have I made myself clear?”

The following silence was absolute. Sirius sat back down and glanced over his shoulder. When he caught Io’s rueful expression a slow smile started to spread across his face.

In a sudden bout of telepathy, Io knew exactly what he was thinking: Oh, it was on.

 

 


	5. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Io finds herself in the middle of a prank war that is quickly spiraling out of control.

Care of Magical Creatures had easily become Io’s least favourite subject in the course of two lessons. They were still studying Porlocks, yet Io didn’t make any progress with the little horse guardians. If they remained in her vicinity at all it was only to protect their herd. The furry beasts looked harmless, but their sharp teeth were not.

Io was once again trying to attract one of the tiny monsters with a fresh bouquet of green grass. Her Porlock wasn’t impressed.

When laughter erupted around her, Io didn’t even react, what with her being a constant source of amusement and all. When it persisted though, she swung around warily.

Abby’s face had turned scarlet from trying to suppress laughter. Elaine bit down a grin. She looked over to the Gryffindors and saw Sirius whistling innocently. 

Then she felt something fluffy brush her head.

Io’s hand darted to her forehead and caught the fluffy thing. She tucked at it harshly and it hurt.

A slow realization dawned upon her: it was her ear.

It was long. It was furry. It was...

Oh no, he had not--

Suddenly she felt something grow on her butt. Io clasped her hands on her behind and touched what was unmistakably a plush little tail.

She whipped out her wand with a shriek. The class laughed harder. Io started firing hexes at a snickering Sirius, who jumped around in a half-hearted attempt to escape her scorn.

"Good little bunny! Sweet little bunny!”

An unhuman growl escaped from Io’s throat which sent the Porlocks running for their life.

"What? I thought it might help with the Porlocks!”

* * *

 

Fortunately, Io didn’t have to wait long to retaliate.

Defence was one of the few classes where she didn’t need to worry about keeping up with the others. Professor Laurel was a middle-aged, very tidy looking witch who seemed better suited to teach them about household charms than the dark arts.

When they were getting ready to duel yet again so the teacher could avoid actually teaching them something, she knew this was her chance.

Sirius and that chubby little friend of his, Pettigrew, had been paired up together. Io muttered the curse under her breath and waited for the events to unfold.

All of a sudden Sirius’ mouth puckered up and pulled him forward with a jerk. At first Pettigrew was too shocked to react as Sirius’ mouth drew nearer in an attempt to smooch him.

When he came too close Pettigrew jumped aside with a yelp. But Sirius’ lips would not rest before they got the kiss they longed for. He chased after him.

The other students turned around just in time to see Sirius lock the other boy in a tight embrace and plant kisses all over his face while Pettigrew desperately tried to escape.

Potter jumped in to break the curse, but that just made Sirius turn to persecute him instead.

That was the beauty of it, Ionia beamed. Each time someone tried to break it, the curse got more powerful.

Professor Laurel clearly wasn’t equipped to handle the situation and kept trying to release Sirius from the curse. His puckered lips just continued growing in size and his romantic advances became more frantic. 

Finally, Sirius managed to plant his comically blown up lips on Potter’s for a passionate kiss. The class howled in excitement and clapped.

When Sirius’ finally caught his breath, his eyes found Io. She just shrugged with a smile. His face darkened.

"What? I thought I’d help you lovebirds out.”

* * *

 

Io’s potion essay exploded when she handed it in to Professor Slughorn. Her shoes got stuck to the ground when she tried to get to Arithmancy on time. Her writing vanished from her Ancient Runes homework, because someone had switched her ink with Zonko’s famous prank-ink. 

In short, Potter and Pettigrew had become equally as keen on getting their revenge as Sirius.

And Io fired back with all that she had.

Pettigrew’s candy developed laxative qualities, which made for a hilarious potions incident.

Potter’s glasses got stuck to his nose, upside-down. It took Madame Pomfrey two hours to detach them and resulted in ugly red burns around his temples.

Sirius’ date with Meredith Fairchild took an unexpected turn for the worse when, instead of murmuring soppy things, white mice started jumping out of his throat.

With each prank, the answering one got more severe. In less than a week, things were spiraling out of control.

That one time Io iced the floor on the potions corridor, Potter crashed and nearly broke his neck. That other time when the boys made the self-fertilising shrub attack her on the way to Kettleburn’s class, Io nearly lost an eye.

Somewhere deep down Io knew that at this rate they were going, someone was going to get hurt soon. Maybe it would be wiser to back down.

But then she remembered how they had bewitched the Hogwarts populace of Mucopus Toads to believe Io was their queen.

If someone was going to get hurt, she would just have to make sure that it wouldn’t be her.

* * *

 

Arithmancy was as irritating as ever. Although Io was slowly catching up on the material, that hardly brought any relief. Now she was simply able to fully appreciate how complicated it was.

Professor Wenlock had set them to the task of investigating the usefulness of numerological systems when applied to other cultures. She had to admit that was an interesting concept. If only it weren’t for all the bloody Ravenclaws in her class.

Io scowled. While she fully understood her housemates’ loathing for the Gryffindor prats, Io herself felt a lot more resentful toward the house of Ravenclaw. She couldn’t compete with their pace nor scholarly discipline and instead of flaunting it, they thought they were so beyond clever they didn’t even need to show off.

She stared down at the chart she had drawn and the numbers started to swim, prompting Io to rub her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Let me take a look.”

Io flinched in surprise, when she found the teacher leaning over her work, checking what she had written down. This close up, she noticed there were white strands in his dark hair.

Huh. Professor Wenlock wasn’t actually all that young.

She hadn’t thought him to be older than thirty-five. Io shook her head at her own silliness. Obviously wizards didn’t become teachers straight after school.

"Here.”

He put his index finger to the third line of her calculation and then she noticed it: an accidental switch of numbers. The entire equation was wrong.

Io groaned.

"It’s not that bad.”  The teacher gave her an encouraging smile, before he turned to another student‘s work.

Sympathy. Could she sink any lower?

Io went ahead to furiously strike out her previous work and was just about to start anew. That was when she saw it: a singular white hair on her parchment.

An idea dawned on her and drove away the dark clouds in her mind.

Oh, this was going to be good.

She stealthily took out a vial and put the white hair inside.

* * *

 

The rest of it was pretty easy to organize.

Sirius had made plenty of enemies among the Slytherins and Io’s ongoing feud with the Gryffindors had earned her more respect in the course of a week than anything else could have ever accomplished that. So the potion wasn’t hard to come by.

Io had also been right about him being arrogant enough to believe a secret admirer would send him chocolates, apparently.

They were in their Charms class when they heard the commotion outside.

"Stay where you are.”

Professor Flitwick moved towards the door. They could hear the yelling now.

"Please, just let me explain--”

"Stay away from me!”

Of course the entire class was out on the hallway in no time and found Sirius chasing after a horrified Professor Wenlock.

Laughter erupted all around Io. She grinned contentedly.

The Professor was looking for an escape from the love-crazed teenager but he soon arrived at a dead end.

"Hear me out! I’ll do whatever, just don’t leave me, please...”

Io could hear Abby whistle right next to her. Wenlock was shaking in anger.

"This is not funny. I don’t know who told you--”

He was enunciating every word very clearly.

"Portius!”

Sirius fell to his knees and wailed.

"Why can’t you love me?”

He started to sob uncontrollably.

Oh. That was... unexpected.

Judging from his dumbfounded expression, Professor Wenlock thought so, too.

Io looked around. The laughter had only grown in volume, the Slytherins were positively jeering. Severus looked like someone had given him the best gift of his life.

"Stupefy!”

Potter's angry yell pierced through the laughter. Sirius fell to the floor; the spell had rendered him unconscious. Potter moved toward his side and cast a quick levicorpus spell.

Professor Wenlock had finally come out of his shock and went to take Sirius to the hospital wing, as Professor Flitwick was shooing them back to their class. Before Io left she turned around and caught Potter’s eye.

His icy glare made her shiver. Maybe she  _ had _ taken this too far.

Someone patted her on the back; it was Severus.

"You’re cold, Rivers.”

He meant that as a compliment.

* * *

 

As soon as the teachers had found out about the love potion, they had suspected her. So Ionia had to come clean to avoid further investigation. 

Not only had they taken 50 points from Slytherin for it, costing them their early lead in the house cup. Her prank had landed her a month’s worth of detention with Professor Wenlock.

He still appeared visibly shaken when she explained to the teachers about the expired love potion and how it had been meant as a light-hearted joke. The look of utter disappointment Wenlock had cast at her had been far worse than any harsh words Slughorn had offered. 

Meanwhile Sirius and his friends had ignored her all day, otherwise acting like their usual pratty selves. She should probably be relieved by that instead of feeling crushed.

What the hell was wrong with her? It’s not like they’d been friends.

To make matters worse the other Slytherins were mad at her. Not because of her stupid prank. Not even because she got caught! But because she had  _ confessed _ . 

Ionia sighed as she leaned over another long Potions essay. It was past midnight and she still hadn’t finished her homework. How was she going to get anything done if she was to spend every night at Wenlock’s office reorganizing his scrolls by date and topic? 

All because of that infuriating, smug little-- A burning pain shot through her skin. Io closed her eyes and breathed deeply. 

She really had to do something about her temper.

Io sighed.  

When she opened her eyes again, she realized she wasn’t alone. Severus was approaching with two steaming cups and set one down in front of her. It smelled like coffee.

"Thanks.”

She took a big gulp and spluttered. It was really strong coffee.

They sat together in companionable silence for a while, until Severus spoke up.

"You know what they say about fighting with idiots.”

Io looked at him with a quizzical expression. Severus sighed.

"They will only bring you down to their level and beat you with experience.”

Io tried for a smile and failed. She managed a grimace.

Severus shook his head, as if he had just realized something.

"You actually feel bad about it.” It wasn‘t a question.

Io remembered how she'd made Sirius cry. She really hated that git, but...

"Yeah,” she admitted in defeat.

"You know they’ve done a lot worse.”

Io thought about that. It wasn’t all that hard to imagine, especially where Severus was concerned. They called him  _ Snivellus _ . 

Severus smiled faintly, but didn’t comment any further. He glanced at her half-written essay.

"Do you need help with that?”

Io gulped, feeling the last remnant of her academic pride dying. She nodded. Yeah, she did.

Severus grabbed her scroll and started reading. A few moments later he sighed in exasperation.

"That bad?”

Severus smirked.

"It’s not hopeless.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnote: Snape is of course (mis)quoting George Carlin here, which is rather unlikely but not entirely impossible, I think. The original quote is: "Never argue with an idiot. They will only bring you down to their level and beat you with experience."


	6. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Io faints twice in the course of one day.

A week had passed since the  _ incident _ and still nothing bad had happened to Io, apart from the occasional angry shove or insult. Sirius himself had gone over to completely ignoring her. She suspected that the Gryffindors wanted her to develop a false sense of security, so it’d be easier to strike when they did.

But Io wouldn’t just lie down and accept her fate.

When she entered the Great Hall, dinner was almost over. Io had made sure to arrive late and sit down at different spots around the house table every meal for the past week, just in case they were going to slip something into her food.

Her roommates were still annoyed with Io and her twitchy behaviour only made matters worse. As she inspected the pumpkin juice in front of her, she noticed Abby rolling her eyes and whispering to a giggling Ethelyn. 

Io didn’t get it. She had not told on Abby, who’d been the one to provide the botched potion. Why on earth would she be so annoyed?

It started to dawn on Io that there was a lot more to girl friendships than she could fathom. Maybe there was a lot more to student life in general than she knew. The alliances and rivalries in her house alone were so complicated and kept shifting so much, she just couldn’t keep up.

She took a bite from her cold toast, but lost her appetite almost immediately. Worrying that the food might be poisoned didn’t help, either. Io chewed slowly and grimaced. Maybe she should go with something sweet instead. The trays of food disappeared from the tables, as if to spite her.

Io got up with a sigh. She would have to leave soon for detention anyway. She caught Severus’ glance at the far side of the table and nodded in passing.

Well, she consoled herself, at least she had one ally in this mess.

* * *

Detention with Professor Wenlock was a mind-numbingly boring ordeal. He had a huge cabinet of scrolls, ranging from class notes in Wenlocks’ own writing to ancient scripture in strange languages and glyphs. Most however where neither decipherable nor interesting.

Wenlock made her wear heavy leather gloves for some reason. Whether that was to protect the old text or her, Io wasn’t sure. On more than one occasion one of the scrolls had hissed at her or tried to escape from her grasp.

The worst part of it, however, was how absolutely pointless her effort was. The filing system was complicated and stupid. She couldn’t read half of the scrolls; most weren’t dated or the authors had remained anonymous.

So she mostly sat there trying to decipher miniscule text and either filing it under ‘some mumbo-jumbo’, old person ranting over something ‘unimportant’ or ‘potentially dangerous words no living soul can read’.

The Professor didn’t seem to care. Apart from a curt greeting at the beginning and a short acknowledgement at the end of the night, they didn’t speak.

Io had arrived a bit early tonight in the hopes of squeezing in some study time at the library afterwards, if he let her go sooner. But Wenlock was unrelenting. He sat there unmoved, entirely engrossed in the heavy book in front of him.

Civilizations could rise and fall and they'd still sit there till the clock struck twelve, Io thought sullenly.

At least she had finally advanced to a section of the cabinet with writings in English. Professor Wenlock appeared to have a rather large collection of historical analysis by a scholar named Seisyll.

Flipping through, Io realized they were all concerning magical artefacts. She stopped to read one of the scrolls that was about a famed peridot locket.

It was rather interesting, she had to admit. The author had collected eye witness accounts and worked on analysing the spell work structure through the stone’s origins and the place where the locket was crafted.

Io frowned. That sounded unnecessarily complicated. Couldn’t he just have--

Oh, that’s why. The last person to experiment on the locket had blown himself to bits. Or, as Seisyll had put it:

_ The unfortunate berk found the trinket’s defences to be... overwhelming. _

She chuckled.

Io turned to another page. The Roshan tiara?

_ The roots of the tale of the legendary Roshan tiara, the diadem of brightness, while closely linked to the royal family of the Sasanian wizarding empire, can be traced back to Babylonian times. The mythical exaltation of the tiara as a dark artefact can in fact be attributed to the misunderstanding of its origin. _

_ Long believed to be under a Parthian curse to haunt the Shahansha’s family, it is in fact the mastery of the Akkadian spell work that is said to give the bearer a far deeper understanding of the fabric of the world than the wizard’s mind could ever dream to hold... _

Intrigued, Io read on and suddenly gasped.

She looked up and found Professor Wenlock in the exact same position as before, sitting at his desk with a straight back and a stern expression, eyes fixed on the book in front of him. She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity won.

"Erm, Professor?”

He turned to her with a blank expression, as if he had all but forgotten about her.

"Those scrolls here, erm by  _ Seisyll _ ? That’s all mainly speculative, right?”

Wenlock’s expression was unmoved, but Io thought she could see a spark in his eye that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

"What makes you think that?”

"It’s just that-- some of it seems... unlikely and err, absurd, to be frank.”

He gave her a faint smile, but waited for Io to elaborate further.

"Like with this Roshan tiara. I find it hard to believe that people would hand something down to their children that was guaranteed to drive them insane. For generations!”

At this, Wenlock guffawed. "Ah, but it makes perfect sense.”

Io couldn’t help but wonder whether the Professor was a bit mad himself. It seemed to show on her face, because he sobered up quickly.

"The promise of omniscience simply was too tempting,” he explained matter-of-factly.

“But-- they knew they wouldn’t get that, so what was even the point?”

"That’s where you’re wrong, see. The tiara held such masterful spell work, it opened the wizarding capabilities to foresee and comprehend the flux of time.”

Wenlock’s face had suddenly come alive as he spoke and Io was certain she had just found the right topic to engage him.

"The Shahansha understood that knowledge would drive the bearer insane and still wanted to obtain it. He knew they’d most likely never be able to use those insights, and still he wouldn’t give it up. If anyone, he believed, were to wield such power, it should be the Shah. Hybris, Miss Rivers, simple as that.”

"But, wasn’t it passed down to the-- Oh.” Now she understood.

"To the second daughter, yes.”

Io frowned, trying to make sense of that.

"That’s so... cruel.”

Wenlock regarded her with an unreadable expression.

"That’s what families are like." 

Io’s frown deepened. It really shouldn't make as much sense to her as it did. 

"Well, they did hand it to a son at some point, because one Shah had not fathered any daughters. The son went and killed his father and eighteen brothers. You see why people believed the tiara was cursed...”

"I bet they didn’t make that mistake twice.”

Wenlock smirked. "You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

Io shook her head in disbelief. "Where’s the tiara now?”

"It is lost.”

Io couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed to hear that.

"All for the better, if you ask me,” he added and turned back to his reading.

After that, Io gave up all pretence to file the documents and instead delved into the collection of Seisyll’s writings.

When she finally got up to leave it was way past curfew. Professor Wenlock wordlessly handed her a book, before he dismissed her;  _ Golden Fleece and Broken Horne - Arcane Artefacts Through the Ages _ by Rowan Vanderlaan.

* * *

Io knocked on the solid wooden door of Slughorn’s office. It was Saturday, Halloween, the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, which meant nearly three weeks had passed since she’d arrived at Hogwarts.

In some ways Io couldn’t believe it had only been three weeks, in other ways time had flown by so quickly, it felt like it was only yesterday she had kissed her mother goodbye. Elaine had asked her whether she wanted to come along to the village, but didn’t seem all that put out when Io said she couldn’t go. Although, technically...

Io knocked again, this time with more force.

"Just a moment,” a booming voice sounded from the other side of the door. 

When Professor Slughorn finally opened the door to let her in, Io realized he wasn’t alone. Agnes McKinnon sat in one of the comfortable leather chairs by the fireplace, sipping at a cup of tea.

"We’d just been talking about you,” the Professor informed her.

Io snorted. She’d guessed as much.

"I hear you’ve kept quite busy.”

The stern look the Auror gave her let Io know exactly what McKinnon thought of _that_. 

She put her teacup down.

"It’s time.”

Io rolled her eyes. As if  _ she _ had been stalling.

McKinnon got up and walked over to the fireplace.

"Thank you for the tea, Horace.”

Oh, look who‘s getting all chatty.

"Any time, my dear.”

Io accepted some flea powder from the Auror and stepped into the green flames without hesitation.

"The Hog’s Head.”

Just seconds later she stepped out of the familiar fireplace in Aberforth’s dormitory and brushed off the coal dust on her cloak. With a swoosh McKinnon stepped out behind her a moment later. McKinnon opened the door and checked the hallway. When she waved, Ionia followed her. They moved down the hall to the stairway and up to the first floor. McKinnon opened the door to the small guest chamber and let Io in.

Her mother sat in the chair by the fireplace. She was awake. The Auror left, closing the door behind her.

Io stepped closer. Her mother’s eyes followed her. Io sank down to her knees beside her, so her mother wouldn’t have to strain her neck looking up. Gingerly, she took one of the bony hands in her mother’s lap and placed it between her own palms. The hand was freezing cold, so she started rubbing it softly. 

"Hi Mom,” she whispered. "I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

Io planted a soft kiss on her mother’s hand.

"You know they keep me real busy at school, just now I had to write this tedious essay on the goblin uprising...”

Once Io had started talking all the new experiences, all the things she had learned and the countless times she had failed in the past weeks, all the good things and the bad began pouring out of her. She was just telling her about the book Wenlock had lent her, when she realized her mother had fallen asleep. Io stopped short. 

Of course. Her mother wasn’t there, not really. This was all bloody pointless. Had she even recognized her? Had she heard a word Io said?

In a sudden surge of anger, she got up. The familiar burn was there, chiding her. This time Io welcomed it. Maybe it was just easier to be angry. She turned towards the door. 

"Ori...", a familiar raspy voice whispered.

Io felt as though someone had knocked all air out of her lungs. She was stuck right there, unable to move, both wanting to go back and forward at once. Her skin burned furiously.

And then she realized it. As much as she longed to turn around, she wouldn't. Orphne and her mother had both become an echo of what might have been and never will be. That name wasn't hers anymore. That woman wasn't  _ her _ mother. 

Io took a breath and left. She just wanted to go home, wherever that was.

She hurried down the stairs and heard the sound of loud voices. Something about that noise stopped her. Someone had just mentioned her name. Io silently moved down the hall, edging closer.

McKinnon was talking to someone, a man. Aberforth, Io guessed. He was hardly more talkative than the Auror, so she wasn’t sure.

They appeared to have a heated argument.

“You can’t lock someone up like that. If anyone should know that, it’s him. I can’t believe you’re going along with this...” the man accused.

“He’s got his reasons.”

The male voice let out a miserable laugh.

“Of course! Never mind free choice. Be a good little soldier, eh? You mark my words, this will all go to hell and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

“Desperate times...”

McKinnon sighed wearily.

“Anyway, she’s raising enough hell, as it is, Abe. Hardly the mark of maturity.”

Sod you, McKinnon. Whatever it is you’re not telling me...

“There’s of course the other matter.”

Silence. When Aberforth answered there was a warning in his voice.

“She’s as safe here as anywhere and you know it.”

So... they were talking about … _the old lady_ _upstairs_? Io cringed.

McKinnon snorted. She obviously disagreed with him.

“It would kill her,” he stated matter-of-factly. What would?

“She’s hardly alive now.”

He grunted.

“At least Albus has  _ some _ sense...”

So was this how it was going to be forever? Someone deciding what was good for her, them?

Sod this.

She stepped forward.

“Mind telling me how you’re going to get us killed?”

The Auror and the old gruff man turned toward her. McKinnon schooled her face into an indifferent mask.

“I beg your pardon?”

McKinnon looked over to Aberforth, who gave a non-committal grunt.

“Right,” Io shook her head. They were the adults; she was the child. Who would ever believe her? “Right.” Lock me up and lose the key, will you?

Io raised her head.

Well, no more. She took out her wand.

See how you like this--

Then everything went dark.

* * *

Io’s eyes flew open. She turned her head, trying to get away from the pungent smell. It took her a couple of seconds until she realized she was in Slughorn’s office.

The rotund Professor held a little flask in his hand that appeared to be the source of the smell. He put a tiny cork stopper in it and gave her a friendly smile.

“You’re in my office, Miss Rivers.”

Io had to suppress an urge to roll her eyes. She knew  _ that _ . The real question was--

“Ouch.” Her head ached.

“Take it easy, now.”

She screwed up her eyes and tried not to move.

“What happened?”

Io tried to remember, but it was all in a haze. She’d gone to visit… the Hog's Head, hadn’t she?

“You fainted.” That was McKinnon‘s voice.

“Oh.”

She opened her eyes again. Slughorn was measuring her state doubtfully.

“The feast is in two hours. How about you go lie down until then? Can you get up?”

Io opened her eyes and carefully moved her head.

“I guess.”

She felt utterly confused so she focused on the simple task of getting up and taking one step at a time. Then she left the office and before she’d realized it, her feet had carried her upstairs. She passed the great hall.

Fresh air. Somehow that was the only coherent thought Io could come up with.

The moment she stepped outside and the cold autumn air hit her, it was an incredible relief. She breathed in deeply and moved forward. A short stroll around the Hogwarts grounds wouldn’t hurt.

What had the Professor said? Io tried to recall their conversation. Two hours?

She wandered downhill, instinctively drawing ever closer to the Great Lake. The water looked dark and menacing in the evening light. But something about it seemed to pull her forward. Only when she was close enough to step into the water, Io noticed what was going on and stopped herself.

What the...? She didn’t even know how to swim!

Io felt a sudden longing to stretch out her hand and touch the surface of the water.

That couldn’t hurt though, could it?

Her hand drew closer to the smooth surface. Just as she was about to touch it she felt a deep pulse coming from the bottom of the lake.

Io jumped back in panic and toppled over. Panting, she scanned the water for movement.

Nothing happened. 

* * *

When Io sat down to dinner she still felt shaky and didn’t even notice the exuberant decoration and the piles of festive food. This had been one weird day.

Io promised herself that from now on she would just stay away from the lake and eat properly.

I can’t walk around fainting like a fine damsel in distress now, can I? 

Too distraught to check what the others were eating, she grabbed whatever was nearest. Beef stew. Well, alright.

At least her headache was gone. She felt the reassuring weight of Wenlock’s book in her bag. She would just eat quickly, go back to her dorm and read for the rest of the night with her curtains drawn. 

Io took two bites of her food. Then she sensed it. A sudden surge of heat rushed through her body and she felt sick to her stomach.

Oh, come on.

Io doubled over in pain and cried out.

The students next to her jumped up in alarm. Puss-filled blisters were rapidly growing all over her body and angrily expanding in size. She could hear the first one pop and the cries of disgust nearby.

On her chest and back, at all the spots where the runes were cut into her skin, the blisters weren’t growing however. Instead her skin started to boil underneath.

Io gagged, she could almost hear it sizzle.

Then the familiar ringing in her ears drowned out all other sounds.

No! That wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.

Io tried to get up. She had to get out before the white haze would drive her insane. She had to--

But all it took were two steps before it got too excruciating to move, the blisters on her thighs rubbed together and popped painfully, the heat surrounding her chest rose to a point where she felt as though she was burning alive. 

Was she screaming? She could sense movement around her, blurry faces melting before her eyes. Had she fallen down? Somehow everything appeared the wrong side up.

Before Io passed out, she could have sworn she saw Potter’s pale face in front of her.

What a nice finish to a crappy day.

**Author's Note:**

> Both the titles of the series "When Rivers Rage and Rocks Grow Cold" and that of this part, namely "Of Cares to Come", as well as the section of Io's letter in verse are all taken from the poem "The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd" by Sir Walter Raleigh. 
> 
> The series is a larger work in progress, which is going to span from Io's time in Hogwarts to her ultimate demise in 1988. 
> 
> Most of these chapters have been betaed by MissMooToYou over at fanfiction.net, which is also where I originally started to publish it.  
> If some errors remain, they are my own. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and Thoughts are always appreciated.


End file.
